Beautiful Sunday Mournings
by LittleBlueYou7
Summary: Five-part short story based off of the My Chemical Romance song "Drowning Lessons."
1. Part 1

Drowning Lessons (Beautiful Sunday Mournings)

The dark water was everywhere, making Hunter blind and nearly helpless. The water was sucking the car down, and the thousands of pounds of machinery was sinking fast. Hunter clawed at the seatbelt restraining him and blindly thrashed for the button to make the belt release him. His only thought was to get to Nicole.

By the time the seatbelt was finally free, his lungs were screaming for air. He reached for Nicole, but there was a sudden vice around him that pulled him away. He violently fought against it as he used his little remaining air to try and call her name. The last of his strength was stripped with the futile action, and he started sinking like the car. Freezing water invaded his lungs like the air he so desperately needed, and his vision blurred to black.

The last thing he saw was the eyes of his love.

Hunter awoke panting for air like he was drowning all over again. He was drenched in sweat instead of lake water, but he was shivering fiercely. After several minutes, he was able to regulate his breathing and his heart slowed. He closed his eyes once more to brace himself for the tortures he would have to face.

"Another nightmare?" a beautiful but concerned voice asked close to Hunter's ear. He opened his eyes and turned his head to stare into the brilliantly blue eyes of Nicole. She always said that Hunter's blue eyes were an even prettier shade, but he denied it every time. She had also said time and time again that their children would have the prettiest blue eyes ever. Hunter's heart sank with such a beautiful memory.

Hunter didn't reply to Nicole's question. He forced himself out of bed and headed towards the kitchenette of the tiny apartment. He had thrown back the covers enough to half uncover Nicole; she made a squealing noise and quickly covered herself again. The sound startled Hunter, and he had to pinch himself on the arm to make sure he hadn't drifted into a dream sweeter than the nightmare before. "You can't see me in my dress before the wedding," Nicole explained to Hunter, who was half-turned to look at her. "It's bad luck." She sat up with the blanket held around herself. She was smiling. "A few more days, and we'll finally be married."

It still hurt Hunter to hear her talk about the wedding, even after five months and sixteen days. Hunter turned his back and continued to the counter where the coffee maker was. "There won't be a wedding, Nicole."

"Why not? Don't you love me anymore?" Hunter didn't have to turn to know what Nicole's face looked like as she spoke: her head would be cocked to the side, her beautiful light blonde hair in her wide blue eyes that were filled with more of an innocent dare than sadness from what he had said to her. Hunter's heart ached with the urge to turn, walk over, and brush the soft hair out of her face comfortingly and say, "No, of course not. I'll always love you." Then he'd kiss her, and she'd grace him with an angel's smile. But he couldn't do any of it. He couldn't touch her.

Hunter braced his hands on the counter and leaned on them heavily while his head hung. "You know why," he groaned. His voice had cracked with his heart.

"Why?" she urged. Hunter was starting to think that she was purposely torturing him with making him say out loud what they both knew.

"Because you're dead. I killed you, Nicole."

He heard Nicole move on the bed and the swish of her dress as she walked. She hugged him from behind and rested her chin on his shoulder. It was something she had done a thousand times when she was alive, and then each morning after her death when Hunter would turn away from his former bride-to-be because of how great the pain was to simply look at her. "Don't be upset, my darling Hunter," she whispered into his ear. She kissed his neck softly. His shiver in response wasn't all to do with the fact that her lips were ice cold. Cold as the water in the lake that night. Cold as death. Nicole tilted her head back up to whisper even softer than before, "Look at me, Hunter."

Hunter shuddered with desire and longing. He could do nothing but turn and obey her wish. It was the least he could do, after all that's happened. It almost physically hurt to see her. The dress she was wearing was her wedding gown. The beaded bodice was marred with a bloody gash across her chest, and the fabric was ripped on her stomach and various places on her skirt. Tool, she had always called the fabric. The cut above her right eyebrow made blood trickle down her pale, lovely face. Hunter closed his eyes and tried to imagine the dress without a spot on it, and Nicole wearing it as she walked down the aisle of the church her parents were married in. But all he could see were Nicole's eyes as they were five months and sixteen days ago, when they stared at him lifelessly from the passenger's seat of the car he had been driving.

He opened his eyes to see Nicole smiling softly. "Everything is going to be fine," she promised, "come Sunday." Before Hunter could react, she added, "You're going to be late for work if you don't get going."

Hunter nodded numbly and finished putting coffee on. He then went to the bathroom to wash off the nightmares and sweat still clinging to him. Whenever he saw his hands out of the corner of his eye as he showered, he could have sworn they were red, but when he looked, they were white and clean. Even so, he washed his hands several times in the shower before finally turning off the water and getting dressed.

Nicole, who had been absent prior to Hunter getting the brewed coffee, reappeared as he took a sip from his mug. She inhaled the rich scent deeply. "I miss coffee," she sighed. When she saw Hunter looking at her, she added, "But I miss you more. So much more."

Hunter drank his coffee, which suddenly tasted bitter. He forced the last of it down anyway for the caffeine he would need to push through the morning. He checked his watch—it would be close getting to the subway on time. Hunter had almost escaped his apartment when Nicole said, "Goodbye, my darling Hunter. I love you."

All of the words he so desperately wanted to say sliced up his throat and tangled together in his mouth. The only word that could slip passed his lips was a scratchy, pained, "Goodbye."


	2. Part 2

PART 2

Hunter got onto the subway just in time and got to work only five minutes late, which was early for him. Even so, he didn't hurry to his cubicle to try and make up for those five minutes. Hunter hated his job anyway; he didn't quit because it made decent money until he could do what he wanted. His dream had been to start his own record label and move to a nice condo in a better part of New York with his wife to start a family. It had all been planned out perfectly, these dreams, before Death sliced through them all with one swing of his scythe.

As Hunter turned the computer on at his desk, a stern voice said his name from behind. He lazily swiveled in his chair to face the man with crossed arms and salt-and-pepper hair. "You're late again," Hunter's boss stated angrily as if Hunter was unaware of the fact. "You've gotten to work on time just fine before, and I expect no different now."

"Sorry, Dad," he mumbled to his father's shiny black shoes. Hunter didn't mean the words any more than every other morning he had to say them.

His father grunted and cleared his throat. "Mr. Wells at the office," he reminded his son gruffly before walking away to deal with what, Hunter thought, was more important to him than his own son.

Hunter spun back to face the computer. He worked for a computer company and wasn't fired yet only because it happened to be the company his father owned. Hunter's job for the company was to make sure that orders were registered and that the computers were shipped to where they had to go. He hated the job, but had kept at it for the last three years with the thought of his future in mind. Now there was no point.

Time passed too slowly as Hunter worked, but eventually his lunch hour came. He got up from his chair and left his cramped cubicle for the employee's lounge on the floor. As he poured himself a cup of much-needed coffee, a heavy hand came down on his shoulder and startled him into spilling some of the coffee. An almost baby-faced man was grinning in a way that made him look like he was in high school even though he was twenty five, a year older than Hunter was. His name was Ralph, and he had been Hunter's friend previous to the car accident that claimed Nicole's life. Now the combination of Ralph's immaturity, dumb smile, and loud voice dragged razor blades across Hunter's nerves.

"Dude," Ralph said in his version of a whisper, "did you _see _the _babe _your dad hired for his new secretary?" Not waiting for a response to the question, he went on. "Aww _man, _if I didn't have a girlfriend, you know what I mean?"

"No," Hunter wanted to reply irritably, "I don't know what you mean. I don't even know what the fuck you're talking about." He burnt his tongue on the hot coffee as he sipped it to wash down his equally scolding words. Ralph was, of course, oblivious to Hunter's discomfort as he said, "Dude, as my friend, you should totally go for it."

Hunter's coffee almost slipped from his hand. It was typical of Ralph to try and set him up with women since Nicole, but each time it caught Hunter off guard and made him furious about just how fucking dumb Ralph was for not taking the hints that were dropped like atomic bombs. Hunter supposed Ralph's thick skull was immune to the radioactivity. "No," was all Hunter ended up mumbling.

"Come _on, _man!" Ralph protested as Hunter tried to ignore him by mopping up the spill he had made earlier. "You owe this to all men everywhere!"

"I don't owe anyone anything," Hunter snapped in a low and dangerous tone he couldn't control any more than the words that were finally let slip. He was too sick of this daily bullshit to even want to try and be civil to anyone. What was a sting from his words compared to his own unbearable pain, anyway?

Ralph sighed loudly as if he was expecting the harsh retaliation. His hand ended up back on Hunter's shoulder as if it was a comfort to be there. He squeezed, making Hunter cringe, and said, "Look man, I get it. You're still not okay with Nicole and all—" Hunter winced again when he said her name "—but it would probably be best if you moved on. It's been, what, six months already?"

"Five months," Hunter whispered, "and sixteen days."

Ralph sighed again. "See, man? That ain't healthy. You gotta try and forget—"

Hunter's head snapped up from its hung position. "_Forget_? How can I just _forget _that my _soul _was ripped out and it's all my fault? If I had been more careful, I wouldn't be standing here a fucking murderer. I will never see Nicole again in this life or the next, because I'll be burning in hell when I finally get to die." Hunter's memory flashed to Nicole, standing in their apartment wearing her ruined dress, smiling sadly as if he was the one that should be pitied for living instead of her for being dead. "I—will never—_forget_."

Ralph's brown eyes were wide so he looked like a deer staring into racing headlights. A few people close by were staring at them; Ralph took notice with a nervous glance. "Look, it wasn't your fault that—"

"IT WAS _ENTIRELY _MY FAULT!" Hunter shouted. Whoever wasn't staring before was certainly staring now. "How can you not fucking _see _that?" He ran his hands through his black hair and tugged violently. It was too hot all of the sudden; Hunter pulled at the tie around his neck to loosen the choke hold. His ears were buzzing, and he started seeing red. Upon focusing, he realized that the red he saw was just on his hands.

Someone touched his shoulder. Hunter viciously shook it off and shoved Ralph aside to get out of the room. "You know what?" Hunter heard Ralph shout, "Fuck you, then, you crazy son of a bitch. I was trying to help you!"

Hunter had to have looked half crazy as he stormed through the office in pursuit of the elevators with wild blue eyes, a mess of black hair sticking up against pale, clammy skin, a loose tie, and his hands being wiped on his black slacks to clean away blood that wasn't there. Stares and whispers followed him out; everyone had to have heard what he had been shouting from the employee's lounge.

Hunter was almost at the elevators when his father stepped in front of him. "Hunter," he said firmly like a command as if the tone of his voice alone could physically stop him. As it was, he did pause to stare at his father, but just as quickly shouldered passed him and hammered the elevator button. He thought he saw a bloody smear on the button, but when he focused his eyes, there was just the orange glow of the arrow pointing down.

"_Hunter._" His father was beside him now. "What's wrong with you?"

Hunter couldn't recall a time he's ever seen fear in his father's eyes until he turned his crazed glare on him. When the elevator opened, he stepped inside and punched the button for the lobby.

"I can get you help," his father said with a thin layer of care to cover his panic. "Whatever help you need, I can get it."

Hunter's face went blank, and he cast his eyes to his father's knees. It was all the farther up he could manage to look at him. Hunter knew his father cared about him deep down, but was never fully convinced of it by the way he didn't seem to see the raw hurt for the past six months. There was too much hope in his father's voice for Hunter to bear. "You can't help me now," he whispered. He wasn't sure if he had been heard, so he looked up. The mix of a deep sadness and the lingering fear was answer enough. He dropped his eyes again.

"Son, please."

Suddenly Hunter's head snapped up so he could meet his father's eyes. "Mr. Wells at work," he had told Hunter, but _now _he was this man's _son? _After so many years of neglect because of Hunter's mother dying? For some reason, this all made Hunter chuckle. That chuckle turned into giggling, and that twisted into a demented laughter that made him slide down the reflective elevator wall. The sight of people staring at him like he was crazy made him laugh even harder. His insanity-filled eyes met his father's as the doors closed.


	3. Part 3

PART 3

Hunter's deranged laughter carried down to the third floor, where someone was waiting for an elevator. The woman was startled back two steps, and she even let out a little shriek of surprise and alarm. Hunter laughed louder and harder, and tears squeezed from his eyes. His head hit the side of the elevator, and he slid to lay on the floor as the doors closed again.

Finally, Hunter's laughter died down. He wiped his bloody hands on his white, wrinkled shirt and left smears behind. When he looked down again, the streaks were gone. Another giggle escaped his lips as he stared at the ceiling. He hadn't laughed at all since he'd killed Nicole. The memory of her smiling face and enchanting laugh made his body go cold as death with an overwhelming sadness. His chest felt hollow, and his breathing became labored, and then a small sob escaped him. Two more moans came with tears, and just as suddenly as his laughter had come before, he started to cry with heartbreaking sobs and wails that only a man with an entire lifetime's worth of crushing pain could produce.

The elevator doors opened on the bottommost floor, which was the lobby. Hunter could feel people staring, but he couldn't see them, for his head was hidden under his arm as his chest heaved and tears flooded from his eyes. "Nicole," he whimpered. "Nicole, I'm so sorry. Nicole…"

"Mr. Wells," a man said. Hunter just groaned in response. "Mr. Wells," the voice repeated from much closer. Hunter lifted his head and saw a man's tear-blurred face. "Your father requested that I help you. Can you stand?"

Hunter's head thunked back to the elevator floor behind the cover of his arm. He didn't want someone helping him on his father's command. Hunter wanted _him _to come and do it _himself._ "Where's my dad?" he asked in a muffled voice.

The man paused. "He's busy at the moment." Too busy to help his own child. Hunter guessed that his father didn't want to deal with his insane son himself. His father never did want to spend any form of time with him after his mother died in the plane crash. The doctors said she ended up surviving the crash into the ocean, but she drowned before she could be saved. Just like Nicole.

"Leave me alone," Hunter mumbled.

"I can't do that," the man replied impatiently. "You have to come with me."

"No."

The man sighed. "Can I get you anything, then?" he asked for the sake of manners. "Water, maybe? Something to eat? You'll feel better."

Hunter didn't want anything to eat, and it would _not _make him feel better. He only wanted alcohol to drink to numb his pain. But there was only one thing he needed. "Nicole," he moaned. She was the only one who could help him now. He needed her now more than ever, even if he could never really have her ever again.

With that decision made, Hunter sniffed and worked to stand. "I have to find her. I have to get home." She would surely be at the apartment, waiting for his return. She would be so happy to see him home early.

The man didn't seem to know what to do, so he helped Hunter onto his feet. "I'll take you to the hospital," he said.

"No," Hunter groaned as he stumbled out of the elevator and away from the man. "I have to get home. She's waiting for me."

"Mr. Wells, please cooperate." He grabbed Hunter's arm, but Hunter tore away.

"I don't need a hospital," Hunter said loudly—he wasn't quite shouting yet, but the volume of his voice was attracting attention.

"Mr. Wells—"

"Shut up!" Now he was shouting. "Leave me alone!" Hunter ran from the building with the man chasing him out. The man let him leave, though, and hurried back into the building. Hunter continued to run down the street; he fell twice and ripped one of the knees on his pants.

He ran until he had to lean against a lamp post to breathe. Colorful spots swarmed his vision; he blinked them away then looked around to see where he'd ended up. The sight nearly made him faint.

In front of him was the church that he and Nicole were supposed to be married in. People were lined up on each side of the sidewalk leading up to the doors. Those doors opened, and a bride and groom came out. The people cheered and threw rice and rose petals as the newlyweds passed through. A few seconds after they made it through the crowd, Nicole spun through the line of people, twirling in her macabre wedding gown, laughing as rice grains and roses fell at her feet. She's too beautiful, Hunter thought with a longing that clenched his heart.

When the crowd dispersed as the newly married couple was carried away in a car, Nicole noticed Hunter at the lamp post. She disappeared and was beside him again in an instant. "We'll be that happy soon," she murmured as she stared at the church. Her parents had been married there, she had told him, and it was her dream to be married there. Her parents had died when she was young and were buried in the graveyard behind the church. Nicole's body was there, too. "Just a few more days."

The undying hope on her angelic face made Hunter's sigh come out sounding like a weak sob. "What's wrong?" Nicole asked, no longer smiling. She gently stroked Hunter's cheek with her cold fingertips.

"I miss you," Hunter whispered. "It hurts so much."

"I know it does, darling," Nicole said sadly, like she was sharing every bit of her fiancé's pain. "But your suffering will be over soon. You'll see. We'll be happy together."

Another weak moan forced its way out of Hunter's mouth, and a tear came from his eye. "I just wish I could believe you."

The corner of Nicole's mouth tilted up slightly, and she wrapped her icy fingers around Hunter's. "Let's go home, okay?"

A small smile cracked through Hunter's mask of sadness. "Okay. I just want to be alone with you."

Nicole smiled brightly. "Me too."


	4. Part 4

PART 4

When the couple got home, Hunter went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of cheap champagne. Nicole always liked to have a bottle just in case there was a spur of the moment cause for celebration. Hunter hadn't gotten rid of anything of hers.

Hunter sat at the small table and opened the bottle. He drank straight out of it and set it down. Nicole, who was seated across from him, was laughing. "You're barbaric."

Hunter shrugged with a smile. "Try it."

"No!" she said with a giggle.

"Come on!" He nudged the bottle towards her.

Nicole sighed, but she was smiling. "Fine." She picked up the bottle and took a small sip from it. She swallowed, then took a deeper drink.

"Told you," Hunter said with a smirk. Nicole rolled her eyes good-naturedly and set the bottle down. Hunter snatched the bottle up and gulped from it. The bubbles danced on his tongue and instantly lifted his spirits. He was eager for the alcohol to kick in and improve his mood even more.

Hunter was suddenly hit with a memory sparked from the champagne, and he chuckled. "Hey," he said with a giggle, "do you remember that time we had a picnic in the park?" He retold the story, and by the middle Nicole was laughing, remembering the rest herself. That story made Nicole tell another one from back when things were so blissfully simple. Hunter's heart would have ached if not for the alcohol that washed away the bitterness of bittersweet memories.

When the bottle was half empty, there was a knock on the door. "Mr. Wells?" a slightly familiar voice asked. Hunter couldn't remember why it was.

"Noooooo," Hunter moaned, then giggled. Nicole laughed along with him. "Iiiii'm Hunter. Mishter Wells ish my daddeeeeh. Go away, mister man!" Hunter and Nicole laughed some more.

"Mr. Wells, please open the door," the voice persisted.

Hunter sighed loudly with a goofy, drunken smile. "Fiiiiine, mister maaaan, Imma comiiiin'." He took another swig from the champagne and clenched the bottle tightly by the neck as he got up from his chair. He immediately tumbled to the floor, and he and Nicole burst into laughter.

"Mr. Wells, are you okay?"

Hunter looked around the floor with heavy lidded eyes. "It'sh okay, mister man, I didn't shh, shhp—_spill _any'a mah bubbleh." He giggled as he wobbled back to his feet. Nicole giggled with her hands over her mouth as he tried to stand. Hunter used the counter for support and slid to lean against the door. He put his eye to the peephole. "Eeeeh," he cheered, "I _know _you, mister man! _Yoooou _work for mah daddeh! Hellooooo!"

"Mr. Wells—"

"Noooooo! Huuuuunteeeer!" He took another gulp of champagne from the side of his mouth so he could still look through the peephole.

"Uh… _Hunter… _please open the door."

Hunter frowned this time. "Nnnnno. If MAH daddy wanna help me, then HE gonna come HERE, not YOU, mishter man." He pressed his arm lengthwise across the door and laid his head against it to cry. Through his loud weeping, he screamed, "I want my daddy back! I want my mama, and my daddy, and… and I…" The rest of his thoughts were drowned in wails and tears as he turned to put his back to the door and let his legs give out. "And I want Nicole!" he shrieked desperately. "I want her alive again!"

Hunter heard the man leave. It made him feel all the more lonely. At least a stranger had seemed to care about him, even just a little. Now he was gone, and he had nothing but shitty alcohol and his dead fiancée, who he didn't actually have. He started to chug the champagne in one last desperate attempt to make the pain go away. When it didn't, he let out a shrill scream of frustration and beat his head against the door.

He felt Nicole staring at him. He opened his eyes to see her beautiful, pale face next to him, as white as the dress spread around her on the floor where she sat next to him. She never could get a tan, which annoyed her because she said it made her look like a ghost. He almost laughed at the irony.

"You're in so much pain, my darling Hunter," she cooed sadly.

Hunter took one more drink of the champagne to finish it, then threw it at the counter. It shattered into a million brilliant shards. One sharp, glittering piece for each of his tears. "I'm so tired, Nicole," he whispered as he stared absently at the glass. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "So tired."

Nicole's dress swished. Hunter opened his eyes to see her standing over him. "Come to bed," she commanded. Hunter used the coat rack by the door to get himself standing, and he staggered to the bed, carefully avoiding the mess he had made. So many messes he seemed to make. He fell into bed, kicked off his shoes, and struggled but succeeded in taking off his shirt and tie until he was in his undershirt, black slacks, and socks.

After a long minute of having his stinging eyes closed, he opened them again in irritation. "I can't fall asleep," he complained.

Nicole was laying on the left side of the bed beside Hunter, silhouetted by the afternoon light streaming through the window. She looked like an angel, all white and gold and too beautiful to belong to this earth. "Take your pills," she replied. "Haven't you been taking them?"

"They don't work," Hunter whined. A nearly full bottle of sleeping pills sat in the drawer of his nightstand. He took the pills for two nights and then gave up when his nightmares got worse.

"Try them," she insisted. "They could help."

Hunter rolled over and forced the drawer open. He didn't want to waste the energy, but he would if Nicole wanted him to. He groaned as he stretched to close his fingers around the orange plastic bottle. It took about two minutes to force the push-and-twist cap off in his current drunken state, and he almost spilled the entire bottle when it did pop off. He poured four pills into his hand instead of the recommended two. Hunter needed to escape life for a little while, and he needed it as soon as possible.

Hunter forced the pills down dry—he didn't have the energy to get up for any kind of drink—and closed his eyes. It had been 12:48 when he shut his eyes; after what felt like an hour, he opened his eyes again and proclaimed, "I still can't sleep." It was after he took four more pills that he saw it was 12:51.

Nicole watched him from where she was laying. To Hunter, she looked sad, but he didn't know why. "What's wrong?" he mumbled tiredly.

She sighed. "Nothing. Go to sleep, Hunter." But the sad look didn't leave her eyes, and her slender fingers played with a silver-blonde lock of her hair like she did when she was deep in thought.

"What's bothering you?" Hunter persisted. He turned onto his side to face her.

Nicole turned her head to stare into Hunter's blurry but concerned eyes with her worried ones. Still absently playing with her hair, she murmured, "I'm just wondering if this is the right thing to do."

Hunter's eyebrows came together in confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked, his eyes searching her face.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Nicole's mouth. "Nothing. Go to sleep, Hunter. You must be so tired."

"But I can't sleep," he whined. "These pills don't work."

"How many have you taken?"

Hunter opened his mouth to reply, but he couldn't remember, so he closed his mouth again and thought back. "Only two, I think," he announced after a minute. "Maybe a few more will help."

"Maybe," Nicole whispered as she gazed at her love with terribly sad eyes. Hunter swallowed a handful of pills and was about to ask what was wrong again, but his eyelids became too heavy to possibly keep open. Before he could finally fall asleep, a loud knock sounded at the door. "Hunter! Open the door!" There was more pounding that made Hunter's head hurt. He wanted to sleep so badly, but he couldn't make himself get up to go to the door or even shout for whoever it was to go away. His body was going pleasantly numb.

With half-closed eyes, Hunter saw the door open and the vague shape of a man come towards him. It was when the man spoke again that Hunter could recognize him. "Hunter," his father cried, "no!"

Hunter could hear his father shouting, but it was background buzzing. The last thing he heard clearly was Nicole's lovely voice close to his ear: "Everything is going to be fine, come Sunday."

Hunter Wells smiled as he died.


	5. Part 5

On Sunday there was a slight, misty drizzle leaking down from the sky, but the sun shone every once in awhile between drifting clouds. Clusters of people dressed in black left their cars with umbrellas, or they just hurried to hide from the light rain under the roof of the church. One man with his head hung low didn't seem to care if he or his designer suit got wet. A man and a woman a few feet behind him were having a hushed conversation. "It's such a shame," the woman whispered to her companion as she shook her head. "First his wife, and now his only son. And both so tragically…"

"It was only a matter of time with the boy," the man muttered back. "His fiancée died in a car crash about six months ago, and he was driving. I heard the kid's been depressed ever since." He sighed and shook his head like the woman had. "No one tried to help him, and now look at where we are. How could his father not have done anything about it?"

The woman just shook her head—a seemingly popular gesture for the couple—as they entered the church. Cliff Wells numbly passed the young men distributing hymn pamphlets—neither much older than his son—and proceeded to the front pew reserved for immediate family. The woman behind him, however, took a pamphlet from the nearest man to her; he was short and had a peculiar hairstyle where half of his black hair was shaved off and dyed red. She resisted the urge to shake her head yet another time. Trends these days, she thought to herself.

The couple met another young man beyond the doors, who acted as the usher and led them to the second pew on the right. Cliff was one pew up on the other side of the aisle. "Is there any other family?" the man asked his wife even more quietly, careful of his voice so it didn't echo. Cliff was alone in the first pew, which had prompted the man's question.

"Cliff's twin sister and two nephews," the woman whispered back, staring apprehensively around for any sign of someone overhearing her and her husband's gossip. "The nephews and their friends are actually the ones who arranged the funeral, seeing as Cliff was… _unable to _in his current state."

The small flow of people turned into a trickle as everyone came inside. Not a lot of people were there; Cliff had always thought it best to have a select group of friends, and Hunter had always been shy. A woman sat next to Cliff in the first pew who had the same jet black hair as her brother. A man who appeared to be her husband accompanied her.

The casket was finally wheeled into the center of the aisle. The funeral could begin.

Hunter stood in front of the altar elevated by steps and gazed out at the mournful faces of people he knew. He wished he could tell them not to be sad for him, that he was finally happy—in fact, this was the happiest day of his… well, death. Hunter wished his father knew that; he could barely stand to look at the sad man in the right front most pew weeping softly. Someday, he'd understand.

Hunter saw the casket where his body lay being rolled in on what looked like a metal stretcher. The people wheeling it were people he remembered meeting when he and his father had visited his aunt, uncle, and two cousins—Hunter's only living relatives—in New Jersey. Hunter had heard a woman say that his cousins made the day's arrangements. That was nice of them.

From somewhere to the left, Hunter could hear sad organ music playing. He wished the tune wouldn't sound so depressing. True, for everyone in the pews this was his funeral, but to Hunter, this was his wedding.

Hunter's younger cousin Mikey came up the aisle swinging an orb of incense after the casket was in place. The sickly-sweet smoke drifted amongst the mourners, and Mikey sat with his parents and Hunter's father in the first pew.

Everything since Hunter died has built up to this moment. Maybe even his entire life prior to this moment has just been nothing but preparation for this. Through the thin veil of smoke, Nicole appeared at the doors of the church, the only color to her being her sparkling blue eyes and the blood red roses she held. She was smiling brightly as she came forward slowly, passing all of the people who were oblivious to the lovely bride. Hunter's grin was just as full of joy as Nicole's was.

One of Nicole's hands came away from the bundle of roses she held so her fingertips could lightly skim Hunter's coffin as she passed it. She finally glided gracefully up the steps to the altar, and she stood in front of Hunter. Her dress was no longer ripped or stained, and the cut on her face had healed to perfection. "You look so handsome," Nicole whispered, even though no one else would have been able to hear her if she had spoken any louder. Hunter was dressed in a black tuxedo that, paired with the raven color of his hair, made him look extremely pale. Ghostly, an appropriate word would be.

"And you look beautiful," Hunter replied. He took her hand and kissed her knuckles like a gentleman. He was still both amazed and elated by the fact that he could touch her now.

Hunter's other cousin, Gerard, took his place at a podium not far from where the two were standing. Hunter had always been mistaken as Gerard's brother for the similarities of their dark hair and pale complexions, but Hunter's hair was always cut short enough to not get in his eyes like Gerard's did, and he was about a head taller. And also far luckier, Hunter thought.

"We have everything we need for our wedding," Nicole quietly mused, "except for the right words."

"Dearest friends and family," Gerard began. In the pause he took, Nicole said, "Dearly beloved…" Gerard continued with, "We have come together today to mourn the loss of Hunter William Wells." Nicole translated again with, "We have gathered here today to celebrate the marriage of Hunter William Wells and Nicole Lynn Deveraux."

The entire speech was carried out in that fashion. Hunter noticed how similar a wedding sermon could be compared to that of a funeral. He took it as a coincidence until near the end, when Gerard seemed to look at Nicole, then directly at him. He could have sworn he saw his cousin's mouth twitch up and his one eye flit closed in a wink. Then, Gerard closed his speech with, "Let us now say our final goodbyes." He came down from the podium, walked around the phantom couple, and stopped on the first step down. He faced the altar, and as he crossed himself, he whispered with a smile, "You may kiss the bride." Gerard turned away to touch the coffin for a moment and then sit with his family.

Hunter stared after his cousin in astonishment before a warm hand on his cheek caught his attention back. He was instantly absorbed by Nicole's beautiful eyes, blue as pure rain. "I finally have you, my darling Hunter," Nicole whispered.

Hunter tilted his head down until his lips were a mere fraction of a centimeter from hers. "Now and forever," he breathed. He kissed her, marking the beginning of their afterlife—the only life that would ever really matter.

THE END.


End file.
